Reborn Ruthless: The Mafia Bride Who Refused to Die Twice

Mirella's POV

In my past life, my husband Pietro locked me in a dark basement and tortured me to death. My only crime? I couldn't get pregnant.

When I opened my eyes again, I was back at the family’s arranged marriage banquet.

Pietro was an illegitimate son, desperate to secure his status through marriage. In my previous life, he chose me—the Godfather's daughter. But this time, he publicly wrapped his arm around my ambitious stepsister, Livia.

Livia had always envied my status. She craved power and desperately wanted to be the Don's wife. Seeing them together, I knew instantly: Pietro had been reborn, too.

Don Ettore laid down the law: Whoever sired a son first would inherit Castel City.

My sister thought she had just been handed a crown.

But she didn't know the truth. The barren one... was Pietro.

——

"Drop the act, Mirella. Looking pathetic won't get you anywhere."

Striding over in her red-bottom heels, Livia lowered her voice, dripping with mockery. My half-sister’s beautiful face was twisted with naked greed.

"Father didn't drag you back from the countryside to steal my thunder. Stay away from Pietro."

I had regressed. Right back to the Ferraro family's marriage banquet.

In my previous life, I was chosen by Ettore's bastard son, Pietro. When I failed to conceive, he locked me away and beat me until I took my last breath.

"Livia, listen to me," I said, looking her dead in the eye, my voice shaking. "Pietro is a psycho. If you choose him, you're choosing hell."

"Hell?" Livia sneered. She leaned in close, her eyes like poisoned blades. "I think you’re just jealous. Everyone knows Pietro is just like Ettore—ruthless. You want the Donna’s seat all to yourself? Keep dreaming, you arrogant bitch."

The grand hall suddenly fell dead silent. Ettore descended the spiral staircase flanked by his three sons. My heart hammered against my ribs. In his custom suit, Pietro scanned the crowd like a hunting predator.

I shrank into the shadows behind a pillar, praying to God he would overlook me.

The next second, his gaze cut through the crowd and locked onto me. My legs went weak. I stopped breathing.

But then I froze—flashing in his eyes was absolute, unhidden disgust.

He completely bypassed me and stopped right in front of Livia.

"Father, she’s the one." Pietro pulled Livia into his arms with a sickening smirk. "I want Livia Mariani."

Wild, uncontainable ecstasy erupted in Livia’s eyes. She shot me a triumphant glare and leaned into his chest. "It's my honor, Pietro."

Cold sweat soaked my back. The relief of escaping death nearly made my knees give out.

That psycho—he really was reborn too.

Giovanni, the meticulous eldest son, simply pointed a finger. "Clara Ricci. Father, the Ricci women know the rules."

The pale mafia heiress stepped forward, having absolutely no say in the matter.

The dust settled. The two strongest contenders had chosen their pawns. In my past life, the youngest son, Niccolo, had sat at the bar drinking the whole time, showing zero interest in women or the throne.

All I had to do was quietly wait for this circus to end, and I could finally escape the Ferraro family's shadow.

"Wait, Father."

A lazy, deep voice suddenly shattered the silence.

Niccolo, who had been smoking in the corner, crushed out his cigarette. The most unpredictable and unambitious son of the Ferraro family stretched his long legs, entirely bypassing a room full of jewel-draped heiresses, and walked in a straight line right toward me.

I stood paralyzed as he stopped in front of me.

Under the stunned stares of Ettore and my own father, he reached out and grabbed my shaking wrist. His palm was scorchingly hot. He looked down, a storm of incomprehensible madness swirling in his dark eyes.

"I want her. Mirella Mariani."

My brain short-circuited.

What the hell is going on?!

Before I could pull my hand away, Ettore clapped his hands and roared with laughter.

"Good! Excellent!" The Godfather clamped a cigar in his teeth, his eagle-like gaze sweeping over the three couples. "Since the choices are made, go prepare. In one month, you’ll all share a joint wedding. Remember—whoever gives me a grandson first gets Castel City."

The night before the wedding, I pushed open Livia's bedroom door. The bed was covered in expensive lace and jewelry; she was obsessively stroking her custom bridal gown.

"Livia, this is your last chance." I stood in the doorway, watching her feverish eyes. "Marrying into the Ferraros isn't a fairy tale. Cancel it now. Pietro will beat you to death."

"Shut up!" she snapped, her expression vicious. "From the moment I put on that ring tomorrow, we are enemies. Don't cry to me when I crush you under my heel."

Looking at her twisted face, I took a deep breath and swallowed my final warnings.